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enough, as soon as she lifted her right leg, she felt a soft tingle in her toes. The sensation pushed quickly on through her ankle, and then her calf. She closed her eyes as the tingle reached her hips. Let her weight slowly transfer from one leg to the other. About halfway through the movement, she felt a pressure on her chest… face… neck.
    And then she was through. But she wasn’t in her room, at least not how she remembered it. And she wasn’t alone. A young man was sitting in an easy chair pushed up against one of the walls. A girl sat on the bed, her knees drawn up under her chin. Both were wearing jeans and T-shirts. Both looked like students. It took a while for Kirsten to tune in to what they were saying, but it turned out to be something related to their lectures. They sounded like they were studying maths – or maybe one of the sciences. She didn’t understand a word of it.
    She ignored them. It was clear her room had been taken over. Someone else’s personality had been plastered over the walls. After she’d first arrived, she’d hung a series of posters to remind her of her trips to America. But they had been replaced with movie posters. She didn’t recognise any of the film titles, but some of the actors’ faces were familiar.
    Kirsten felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. This change had taken some time. It hadn’t been done in the forty-eight hours mentioned by the policeman. Probably not even forty-eight days. If her room had been taken over by students, it likely meant the whole floor was now reserved for them. More than a year could have passed since she…
    “Can you pass me my jumper?”
    The girl was waving a hand towards her friend.
    “How can you be cold?” he said.
    “I just am. Look, don’t be a dick and pass me the jumper.”
    “It’s the hottest day of the year.”
    “I suddenly feel cold, okay?”
    The lad smirked. “Maybe she’s here? You know, the bedder in the bath?” He was clearly enjoying making the girl uncomfortable.
    “Quit it. That’s too recent to be a joke, right?”
    He laughed. “She could be in there: the next time you go take a pee. You could ask her who did it.”
    “Shit, Lee. You know I’m not happy I got assigned this room.”
    Lee shrugged. The girl pulled her knees tighter to her chest. “Would you think me stupid,” she asked, “if I said I’d already seen her?”

11
    P OMPEII. T HE LOST Roman town, buried under ash and pumice, its inhabitants killed by a mixture of heat and suffocation. The images of its streets and buildings were fresh in Nick’s mind. He’d visited the site many times. Walked its pavements. Read the graffiti left on its walls. And now? Could the town and its population be reunited?
    Nick leant forward. His forehead creased. The table in front of him could seat about sixteen people, but only three of the places were taken. Aside from himself, a couple of female students occupied the far end of the table. He didn’t pay them too much attention. Although presumably in the library to work, they seemed more interested in sending messages to each other on their phones than doing any reading. Occasionally, they issued a stifled giggle. On a normal day it would have irritated the hell out of him. But today wasn’t normal.
    He looked down and continued reading his favourite book about Pompeii. Written forty years earlier, it had been at the very top of the undergraduate reading list. Back then he’d appreciated its clear diagrams and the fairly dismissive passages about the Italian tourist board. As a researcher, he still regularly used it to check his own work. So much so, he usually returned the book a couple of shelves above where it should be kept. Just so he would have a good chance of getting hold of it when he needed to. Just like now.
    Nick ran his finger down the index, searching for Pliny the Younger – a Roman magistrate, and one of the few people who’d actually witnessed the eruption of Vesuvius first